


That Which Makes You What You Are

by Riffler



Category: Uncanny X Men
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riffler/pseuds/Riffler
Summary: Magneto has pulled every ounce of adamantium from Wolverine's body in retaliation for a grave injury at his hands. Jubilee is back at the mansion for spring break, ready to resume her friendship with her pal Wolvie, in spite of his recent unpredictable behavior. But everyone is warning her to stay away from Logan, that he's not been himself since the time of Magnet's terrible deed. But they don't understand...This story is a behind-the-scenes look at the events happening in Wolverine #91, 1995.The title to this story is a quote is from Wolverine #76, 1993.Also mentioned here are events from X-Men #25 and X-Men #75, 1993, the Fatal Attractions story.An additional scene is touched upon from Wolverine #74, 1993.All of the above issues were written by Larry Hama.This story as it is here could not have been written without my good friend and beta reader Aldebaran.I thank her for everything.





	That Which Makes You What You Are

 

"And thus I wrench your inner core from you, that which makes you what you are."  
*Magneto*

 

 000000000000000000000000000000000000 

It had all gone down just three days before she left the Massachusetts Academy to return to Xavier's School for her spring break.

Three freakin' days.

Nine inches of bone claw, right through the brain. Only Sabretooth could survive a wound such as Logan had delivered.

It plagued her. Nobody'd told her Wolvie was so troubled, so preoccupied with the creep. To be fair, maybe nobody realized until it was too late. Probably even the Professor himself couldn't be everywhere, know everything, all the time. 

So Logan had slipped under the radar, so to speak. And all hell had broken loose.

 

00000000000000000000000000000000

Shoes in hand, small blanket from her bed tucked under an arm and backpack slung over her shoulder, Jubilee crept down the long staircase, careful to avoid that one creaky step near the bottom. Across the foyer, through the spacious hallway she padded, finding her way through the darkness by tiny, built-in nightlights spaced low along the wood-paneled walls. Quiet, so quiet the mansion was at this hour, everyone snug in their beds, steeped in sweet dreams. 

Sleep had claimed her quickly last night, so content was she to be home. Slipping back into the comfort of Xavier's school was as easy and as natural as breathing. Like hot tea and blankets on a blustery winter's night, the mansion on Graymalkin Lane was her refuge. Her anchor. Not like the Academy in Massachusetts, where it seemed she existed in a permanent state of belly-clenching discontent. Where most of her nights were spent lying in bed feeding her anger all the reasons she should be back home. To keep it sharp, alive. So that when the time came to make her move, she would be ready, strong and defiant. 

Was she a little child, then, with no say-so about her destiny? How would the Professor feel, if he were the one ripped from his home, his friends? Ordered away from all he knew and loved? 

And at the worst possible time, too-- not that *any* time would have been right-- but then! So soon after Wolvie nearly died, adamantium torn from his body by their arch-enemy Magneto. Practically before she knew what was happening she'd been moved into the dorm at Emma Frost's Academy, and had begun attending class there. 

Emma Frost of all people! A person who not so very long ago was considered their rival. The Professor placing her under that woman's care was an incomprehensible thing.

They'd have to drag her back. How could Professor X not realize she needed to stay here, at *his* school? This place fed her soul. She was starving down there in Massachusetts.

But hey, you know? He did what he thought needed to do. So did Wolvie. Now, finally, so would she. 

But first, today, she was going to find Wolvie, see what was going on with him for herself. Over dinner last night some had advised her to stay away, speculating the incident with Creed may have pushed Logan too far, that he might never be himself again. It had distressed her to learn he had not set foot inside the mansion since the night of the attack. But their concerns about his erratic behavior, his burgeoning aggression, had only served to make her more determined than ever to seek him out. Geez, really, what did they expect? She and Wolvie were partners, friends. They had each other's backs. Everybody knew that.

Who was Jubilation Lee, without Wolvie by her side? And who was Wolverine without her? Was that a ridiculous thing, arrogant, even, to think that she might influence him so much? Maybe it wasn't such a bizarre notion. Just look what'd happened, when she was sent away!

The tall east-facing windows of the spacious kitchen-slash-dining room were rectangles of flat black, revealing nothing of what lay beyond their panes. But when Jubilee leaned close and looked almost straight up, she could see the friendly face of the moon looking back at her. Don't worry, it seemed to be telling her with its serene countenance. Everything's going to be okay.

One thing she knew without doubt. Wolvie was a survivor. He would weather this. The fact that he hadn't run off like he had after his metal was taken was a good indication right there. He'd even allowed himself to be briefly caught by the estate's security cameras on more than one occasion, as if he was telling everyone that even though he wanted to be out of sight he did not want to be out of mind. That seemed hopeful, a good thing. 

Her growling stomach lent an extra urgency to her preparations. Quickly she slapped jelly and peanut butter on a couple English muffins, nabbed a few sodas and bottles of water. Searched through cabinets and pantry, grabbing up a bag of trail mix and an almost full box of Twinkies. Stuffed it all into her pack, which was already fitted out with other miscellaneous things she might need. Flashlight with spare batteries. Pocket knife. Paper towels. Bug spray. A light jacket and a sweatshirt.

She paused to write a hastily scribbled note, to forestall any worry of her whereabouts. But most of all to keep inquiring minds away. 

*Morning, guys! Decided to go camping for a while. Don’t worry about me! Got my phone, I’ll call if I need to.*

She read it again and smiled. A bit enigmatic. That was okay. Just right, in fact. She stuck the note to the fridge with the yellow sun magnet, the one that said beneath its smiling face, Have A Happy Day!

Who knew, maybe she would. It was a day for getting reacquainted, with any luck at all. Wolvie had to know she was home. So what if he was shy about coming inside. She knew a place where he just might go, to look for her. 

Breeze laden with moisture, the smell of earth and growing things. Sniffing appreciatively, pausing only long enough to slip on her shoes, Jubilee walked briskly across the vast rear lawn, past the dark, hulking shapes of the farthest outbuildings. Into the fallow fields. The moon was indeed kind, and cast for her just enough light to keep her from tripping over grassy tussocks, or turning an ankle in the soft, crumbly mounds of mole hills. 

How good it was to be back! The lush, tender spring growth all around filled her with delight. So fresh, so full of promise. Just to see again this beautiful, open field seemed almost a miracle after all that lonely time away. 

How many afternoons had she spent, occasionally with Wolvie at her side, more often on her own, checking out all the blooms scattered throughout this meadow? She tugged the backpack more securely onto her shoulder, grinning as she walked, remembering the days when she had first come to Xavier’s, when she'd naively asked Wolvie if he was the gardener who had created all this beauty. He'd laughed, head thrown back, and told her the day he started rootin' around in the dirt plantin' posies was the day he should be put out to pasture.

At last Jubilee reached her destination. If she could, she would wrap her arms around the old barn, give it the biggest hug, she was so glad to see it, to be here in its comforting presence. To take in its soothing scent of fresh hay mixed with old wood. Truth was, this venerable barn was her refuge within a refuge. Hours spent here were always a balm to her spirit, especially so when she was upset. It was the same for Wolvie, too. After all, this had been his personal place of peace long before he'd brought her to live at the mansion.

But-- something was wrong. Even in thin moonlight it was easy to see the structure had lost many of its boards since her last visit months ago. It looked skeletal. Worse, the entire building had developed a slight but definite list. It looked like it was dying. 

"Oh no," Jubilee whispered, leaning a shoulder against the closed door, trailing her fingers slowly down the weathered old wood. Turning a little to rest her cheek against cool planks. Almost like skin, this plane of softly textured smoothness, and with the breeze sighing through the slatted walls it briefly seemed as if the barn wasn't dying at all, but breathing and even feeling, holding onto life. 

So this, too, then, would be added to that tally she kept inside her head, of people and things gone forever from her life. 

Was loss-- *repeated* loss-- some fact of living that nobody'd bothered to tell her about? 

Her barn. *Their* barn. It distressed her more than she imagined it could, the imminent demise of this special place.

Her school, taken from her. And that was just the right word, too. Taken.

And then of course... her parents. Taken, too. Gone. 

She'd dreamed of their deaths many times. The raw emotion of those dreams had changed, moving from abject misery to a low, smoldering rage after she'd learned the car crash that killed them had been no accident at all, but deliberately orchestrated. She would always be grateful for Wolvie’s wise counsel that day, the day they'd confronted the two killers. It still made her shudder to remember how she'd held the fate of the murderers in her hands, and how close she had come to making the wrong decision.

The death of her parents was the worst moment of her life. Was it wrong to compare that nightmarish time to the loss of a barn, a school? 

Lastly, and maybe most importantly of all, at this time, this place in her life, was the loss of Wolvie himself. After Magneto's attack he'd claimed himself a liability without his adamantium, his healing factor. From her bedroom window she had watched him leave, his sad note clutched in her hand, his cowboy hat sagging on her head. 

This was his habit, normal for him, they said. He always comes back, eventually. Those assurances had been good to hear. She was well aware that if ever there was a time for him to vanish completely and forever, it would have been then. No metal? And practically no healing factor, either? Geez. He'd been so wounded, so... defeated. And yet he had come home. To the place he felt safest. The people he felt safest with.

The fact that she'd been securely installed at the Academy when he finally did return was a thing that couldn't be helped. She'd railed against that unfairness, to anyone that would listen.

What was it Jean had said to her, after Magneto's terrible deed, after they'd all witnessed Wolvie's anger and subsequent depression over his perceived uselessness? After he'd left them all? Oh, yes. 'Your very foundation has been rocked.' That was it. So how did you fix something like that? 

Apparently by sending her away to the Massachusetts Academy. What a freakin' brilliant idea! She should have said something, protested, told the Professor that wasn't what she wanted, no, not at all. But she'd done none of that. Just stood there instead, folding into herself. Appalled at what he was proposing but unable to speak up. Because she owed him. How could she say no? Professor X had taken her in, given her a home, a family... the stability she so sorely needed. And he'd never really asked anything of her before, not like this at least. Not that he was asking. No, she'd been told. This is what you're going to do. 

It was so aggravating. So was her lack of backbone. Well. She'd be fixing that, wouldn't she? Real quick. Soon everyone would see she knew her own mind, that she was no push-over.

Sometimes life just wasn't fair. That's what Wolvie said. Best thing was to try to make the most of what you're dealt, and don't look back. Regret could draw you under, drown you, if you let it. You had to just move on, leave it behind. 

But moving on didn't mean knuckling under. She knew Wolvie believed that too. The way you played your hand was up to you to decide. But-- and this was the kicker-- what about duty, what about commitment? How did you balance obligation with what you needed to do for yourself? She had chosen obligation, avoided the guilt of denying the Professor his request, and that hadn't worked out so well for her, had it? Not at all. Sometimes following your heart was the only way to go.

Wolvie had trouble himself, sometimes, practicing what he preached. She understood much better, now, why that was so. It didn't make his words any less true. 

A bruised sky along the tree line heralded the coming of the sun. Dawn was close. Time to stop mooning, and go to her special place.

A bit of determination back in her step, Jubilee went around to the silo, ducking inside through its small rusty door. Black. Black as pitch! Her footsteps crunched as she walked through the crusty layers of old bat poop covering the ground. She paused for a moment to listen. Evidently it was too early yet for the bats to be back in their roost. Up the silo's rungs she climbed, feeling her way, stepping carefully across the gap between the two structures, and into the barn loft.

Moonlight glowed softly from the open mow window, faintly illuminating the dusty, straw-strewn floor. The hay bale walls of the little room she'd created were still standing, and that was nice to see. And there, hanging high on a nail, was his cowboy hat. She took it down, brushed a little dust from its crown, careful not to break the long, brittle stem of late-summer grass tucked into its band. She set it on a bale she pushed close to the mow window, and then just stood for a while, looking, listening. Remembering.

"Wolvie?" she finally called softly, reluctant to break the peace of this place. The only reply was the sigh of the wind, and the faint, sleepy song of a waking early-bird. The moon's light was bright but didn't penetrate enough for her to see if Wolvie's owl was resting in her favorite spot, on top of one of the crossbeams that punctuated the width of the barn. Third one back from the big door. Jubilee hoped the bird still made this barn her home. 

She was sitting in the window unwrapping a muffin, feet dangling and blanket loose across her shoulders when there came a sudden rustle of hay from behind. Turning quickly she saw a large brown rat running fast, making for the bales stacked along the wall, while at the same instant two shapes were rushing toward her with bewildering speed along the high, central wooden beam that ran down the length of the barn. The blanket fell from Jubilee's shoulders as she scrambled to her feet. It clung for a moment to the lip of the sill as if fearful of the drop below, then slipped from view.

The owl whipped past, followed half a heartbeat later by Wolverine. Both were in hunting mode, intent and focused, eyes riveted on their prey. 

The bird was a blur of rust and white as she swooped after the scrambling rat. The animal dodged, lost its footing on the straw and tumbled, twisting and flailing, before righting itself and bolting between the bales, barely a hair's breadth ahead of the owl's reaching talons. The bird banked sharply aside and then it was Wolvie's turn. He lunged, plunging his arm in to the shoulder, and tore the struggling creature from its hiding place. Landing beside him the owl screeched and beat the air with her wings. Chaff and dust swirled in the updraft.

Still in a crouch, Wolvie turned, eyes glaring from beneath a wild mane of hair. There was a strange intensity about him she had never seen before. He looked... hungry, but not just for physical sustenance. His other hand crept to the rat's head as the frightened creature thrashed and bit.

"Oh-- don't hurt it!" Jubilee blurted, fingers to her lips. Rats were kind of icky, especially crawling around in her barn but even so she didn't want it killed. 

After a long moment Wolvie set the rat beside the bales. It sat motionless, stupefied, until the owl lowered herself and cupped her wings, preparing to leap. Then with a wild scrabble of feet it shot to safety between bales. The bird turned her white, heart-shaped face Jubilee's way and hissed.

Wolvie was looking at her, too. A detached but at the same time intense sort of appraisal. 

"It's me," Jubilee said, feeling foolish. 

Still he did not speak. 

"Um, were you gonna like... eat it?" 

"You got a problem with that?" he growled with a flash of teeth. Was that a snarl? Without thinking she took a half step back. 

"No. I mean... well, yeah, kinda."

The owl gave them both a disgusted look and flapped back to the beam.

"She your new sidekick?" Jubilee said, swallowing down a small, sudden catch in her throat.

His eyes narrowed and he snorted. "You stink of the city," he said. "An’ you're too damn skinny."

Her gaze moved over him as he slowly stood. He was in his blue and yellow costume. It was torn, dirty. He'd been wearing it, so they said, since the incident with Creed. He was quite lean, yet swathed in impossible layers of muscle. There were pine needles in his hair.

"Well, you look different too," she said. "Kinda... woodsy-like."

"What the hell does 'woodsy' mean?" he said, bristling, fingers curling, uncurling, impatience fairly radiating from him. He took a step nearer.

"It means you look like you belong to the forest. Like a wolf, y' know? Or a grizzly bear. Except your clothes... don't really... fit in..." Her voice faded.

For an instant the mixture of cold moonlight and palest dawn made him look as if he was made entirely of silver... or adamantium. Then the light changed, was it a cloud drifting over the moon? In that softer glow he became flesh and blood once again. 

Very long pause, too long. She shifted from foot to foot. "I’m just sayin’. I thought you'd want to... you know. Blend in. Out there in the woods.”

"You don't know shit about camouflage, do ya?" Another flash of very white teeth. 

It seemed important somehow, to hold his gaze. "What's the matter, Wolvie? You don't hafta be all mad."

He laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "That’s all I got left, girl. Mad. That and the urge t’ kill somethin’. Your rat's one lucky son of a bitch. Me an' Ryuu, we never miss." 

"She has a name now? Sounds like she *is* your sidekick."

"My huntin' partner." 

"You two just going around, killing stuff? Oh--" Cripes. Where'd that come from? 

He sidled closer. She stopped herself from stepping back again but he noticed something and his fierce gaze sharpened. What was it, a flush of adrenaline? Her rising heartbeat? 

"You afraid of me, Jubes?" he said softly, hardly louder than the whisper of the breeze. But his words held nothing of the wind's gentle benevolence. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

What the heck was all this? She faced him full on, and shoved him, hard. "Stop it, get *back*. You're snarling and looming over me and acting like a big creep so what d'you expect! You don't have to prove anything to me, I know you're a bad-ass!"

He rolled his shoulders. Scratched at a sideburn, scowling all the while. "Your instincts are right. You should leave here." 

"The heck with my instincts! I want to talk to you-- "

"I'm tellin' you, that might be a mistake," he said. "I ain't myself. You oughta know, I been seein' people different lately. Like they really are. Soft an' helpless. Like... like prey." 

That gave her a bit of a pause. She stared at him.

"That's right," he continued, lifting his head almost defiantly, eyes gleaming. "Catches me off guard all the time. Some little gesture, a look, even, is enough t' set it off--"

"You really expect me to believe you'd deliberately hurt me?"

He shifted his weight, glowering. "I tried t' off Sabretooth. They tell you that?"

"Yeah. They told me. Professor X said he lived through it. You know what I said? I said, that's not a mistake you usually make."

"You sayin' I left him alive on purpose? Why the *hell* would I do that?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It's just kinda weird, that's all."

"That ain't how it was. You're right, you *don't* know."

She retrieved her dropped muffin, plucking a bit of chaff from it, careful to move slow and easy. "Okay, Wolvie," she said mildly as she sat in the mow window again. From behind came the impatient huffing of his breath, the restless rustle of his feet in the straw. He would of course understand what it meant, this turning of her back to him. After a few moments of continued shifting, he sighed, and hunkered down beside her. 

"Anything else in that bag of yours?" He was sniffing, eyeing her food. "That was my breakfast you were gettin' all weepy over." 

Jubilee dug in her pack, opened a soda for herself and passed him a bottle of water along with the other sandwich, watching as approximately half of it disappeared in one gargantuan bite. 

"Y'know, I totally understand the law of the jungle, and all that," she said, sipping. "Survival of the fittest, eat or be eaten. But that doesn’t mean I like seeing it in action, all up close and right in my face."

Wolvie seemed to be having a problem. Grimacing, he grabbed for his drink.

"Holy hell," he gasped finally. "Ol’ Mags couldn’t put an end to my days, but this peanut butter’s got my number. Damn. Ya put it on with, what, a trowel?"

She shrugged, suppressing a giggle somewhat unsuccessfully. "You know I like peanut butter. In vast quantities. Maybe we should make it a secret weapon. Death by Jif."

A moment of silence. "Part of our armory. Buncha pb and j's."

Jubilee laughed. "Like, okay, here's your semi-automatic, here's your flame thrower...and here's your lunch bag!"

"Get hungry, we could eat our ammo."

Their eyes met. "Carefully," they said in unison. She laughed again.

"It's good t’ see you, Jubilation," he said. "Sorry I scared you." 

"I wasn't really scared. I get it. You were, y'know, like, testing me or something, right?"

A pause. "That what it was?"

"Well wasn't it?" He didn't reply. "How’ve you been, Wolvie? I've missed you. We've hardly talked. Barely even a handful of times.”

"I been on the road a lot, Jubilee. Had to figure some shit out. Keepin' the people here safe's been weighin' on me."

Safe? But-- how could he keep everybody safe when he wasn't around?

The silence stretched.

"Did you figure things out, then?" she said finally. "Have you been, y' know, okay?"

His gaze dropped to his hands. "Got my ass handed to me, more'n once." He popped his right claws. The sound was odd, thick and sliding, nothing like the usual sharp metallic zing. Pale, twisted, heavily gnarled things emerged. "Bastard Cyber stomped 'em off. Couldn’t do nothin' but lie there howlin' my lungs out." He drew them back with a grimace. "Swear he's gonna pay for it, though."

"Oh my gosh! That's awful! Oh Wolvie, you've been through so much. First Magneto, and now this? Was it... it must've been terrible for you!"

"Yeah, well, that ain't the half of it."

"All on account of Magneto! He's just-- evil! Oh, but look how fast you stopped bleeding. It looks like your healing factor's back to normal now."

"It is," he confirmed. "I've come a long way. More'n you can imagine."

"So... what happened with Magneto, anyway?"

"You know. Chuck took care o' him." 

"Yeah, but-- I thought maybe you would've taken care of him, too."

He looked out at the gradually lightening fields. "Maggie probably doesn’t recognize his own mug in the mirror any more, after that mind-wipe. He's had it.” 

"But-- I don't-- It sounds like you feel sorry for him." 

"The guy’s done in," Wolvie murmured. "Might even be down for the count." 

This was just so... weird! Didn't Magneto deserve what the Professor'd done? 

She sighed impatiently. "He nearly killed you, Wolvie! He's hurt so many of us, for so long... I hate him!"

Wolvie looked at her. "You got a core o' steel inside that soft heart o' yours, Jubilation." 

"Well-- I'm not saying you *should've* done anything to him. I mean, really, I'm glad you didn't."

He passed his hand over his face and sighed. "I know, Jubes. I know."

How quickly his mood changed. She studied his frowning profile. "Here-- you want this?" she said, offering him her half-eaten sandwich. "I'm full." 

"You should eat more, you're wastin'." His observation didn't stop him from snarfing it down.

"I was real hot to settle that score for a long time," he said then, licking peanut butter from a finger. "Funny, ain’t it. There I was, plannin' the worst kind o' revenge on Magneto for takin' away something I never wanted in the first place." 

She searched his face. 

"What it comes down to..." He shrugged. "I reckon ol' Maggie did me a favor." 

She nearly dropped her soda. "A *favor*? But--" 

"Who the hell am I, Jubilee?" he interrupted. "The *Wolverine*." His voice was harsh, lips twisting into a grimace. "I got no idea who that is. When those bastards put the metal in me, they changed me in a way I thought could never be undone. Hank says it stopped my mutation, stopped me from becomin' who I was meant to be." He turned to her, eyes intense with the desire to get his point across.

"There's too much animal in me t' fit into society. But-- there's too much human in me to be truly one with the wild. The way I want to be. That's always been a battle. In one stroke, Magneto stripped all that away. It was a fuckin' baptism." He shifted, frowning, looking at his hands, closing them into fists. "I got a chance now. To find out what I missed." He lifted his head, again looking at her in that challenging way. "I've had the stink of civilization around me for way too long. I can't tolerate it any more. I been hankerin’ real bad for the forests back in Canada. Where the air is clean an' honest. That's where I gotta be. That's where I can find myself again."

Hold on. Leave? Is that what he just said?

"But...but... you just got back," she said. "You haven’t been here for very long at all. I thought this was your home. Won't you-- I mean, won't you miss... "

"All that saving humanity crap? I'm done with that."

"You are? How can you..." she paused, thoughts whirling as she struggled to take it all in. "Wait a minute! Why are you in costume then, if you're finished with the X-Men?"

"I told you--"

"Camouflage, yeah. But don't you think, doesn't it seem like maybe you're wearing it to remind yourself that you are an X-Man? Maybe even to remind everybody else around here, too."

"*That* is bullshit, girl." He was grinding his teeth, she could hear it. 

"Why are you getting so mad?" 

"You grillin' me for a reason?"

"Wh-- no, no, I just... Oh, Wolvie, please don't go. What about all your friends..." *Like me*...

"I think the time's come t' move on." 

This wasn't happening. She had to force herself to say it. "For good?" She couldn't look at him. If she did, if he looked into her eyes, he would know that she didn't have that core of steel inside her after all.

"I don't know," he said finally. "Have to see how things play out." His tone now was guarded.

"But I-- wait, look, look what I have here." She knew she wasn't making sense-- as if getting his hat back would make him stay! But she grabbed it from the bale anyway, held it out to him. "I kept it safe for you--"

He turned his face away. "That ain't me anymore, Jubes. I don't want it."

Well then. There it was. Blunt and to the point. So much for partners, and loyalty, and friendship. Whatever! Be done with it *all*. Leave everything and everybody behind yet again, and don't think twice about it! 

She felt as if the roof and the walls were closing in around her. She was suffocating. Almost desperately she sucked in a deep breath and looked out into the wide, open field stretching away before them. Silhouetted against the coming dawn tiny, fluttering forms were looping, dipping and diving, making their way to the old stone silo. The bats had begun to return. 

How totally ironic this was. Sitting here at long last in her most beloved place, beside the person she most wanted to be with. The owl was here, she still called this barn her home, and so did the bats. Everything seemed just peachy. But nothing was the same, nothing was the way it should be. Not even Wolvie was himself. 

"You alright?"

She had to swallow before she could speak, hating that little gulping sound that came with it. Slowly she placed the hat back on the bale. "You know what, Wolvie? For a smart guy you're awfully dumb sometimes. Just-- leave me alone. You've made up your mind. You're gonna do what you want to do. So who cares, right?"

"Jubilee--"

"Just shut up! Geez!"

"You aren't cryin', are you?"

"No I'm not *crying*! So nobody matters to you any more. That's wonderful. That's just great."

"Hey, c’mon, be fair--" 

"Fair!" She jumped to her feet. He quickly followed. "Don’t talk to me about what's fair. Go on then, go live in a cave or-- or up a tree! Eat rats for the rest of your days! Sounds like a great life to me!" Her words, her anger seemed to hang in the air, tainting the barn's peaceful atmosphere. "Oh, I can't stand this!" she exclaimed, and whirled, giving in to a sudden and terrible need to be away from him. "Move, I gotta--" 

"Dammit, Jubilee-- wait." He seized her arm as she tried to shove past.

"Don't!" she cried, wrenching violently away. 

It happened very fast. Her arm popped from his grasp, she stumbled back. In a heart-stopping instant she realized she was way too close to the window ledge, the long drop gaping seemingly bottomless right behind. Heel treading on nothing but air, the toe of her shoe barely caught the edge of the sill, then slipped off. She was going to fall, follow her blanket down and end a broken heap on the ground below. Gray sky and gray wall alike skewed before her eyes as she struggled to grab the window frame, the floor, anything... 

Then Wolvie was there, his hand hard on her arm again. Pulling her back to safety, bellowing in her face.

"Watch what the hell you're doin', girl!" 

The shock of him shouting at her was worse than her near-tumble from the window. 

"Don't yell at me!" she screamed back. 

They faced off, glaring. As she watched his expression changed. Expectant. Waiting. He thought he'd won, he was waiting for her to clear out. That need to escape abruptly flipped back into diamond-hard determination to stay. No, she wouldn't let him run her off. A concrete reason to remain was what she wanted, something to keep her attention away from all his growling and posturing. An idea came to her all at once and she latched onto it with a kind of fierce satisfaction. Of course! It was perfect. It was just the thing. 

As if in confirmation the first weak glow of sunlight suddenly penetrated the gaps in the barn's rear wall, draping them with thin, dust-moted bars of flame and shadow. From the corner of her eye Jubilee saw the owl move along her beam into the shadows against the wall.

She pushed past him. "Get outta my way! I've got work to do. This barn is falling apart, and I'm gonna fix it." 

Blinking at her from beneath lowered brows, he said fiercely, "You hit your head or something? Fix the *barn*? It's on its death-bed, look around you. Six months from now there'll be nothin' standing."

She rounded on him, furious. "How can you even say that to me? Maybe I can extend its life by years and years! At least I'm willing to try. *You* fight for the things you think matter. *You* do what you need to do! Well now it's my turn. It's about time I started to fight for what's important to *me*!" The last word she punctuated with a slap to her chest, choked out amid the threat of angry tears. Quickly she turned away, and swallowed them down. 

She left him there, staring after her. Down the silo ladder, out into the light of early dawn. The sight of her blanket lying in a heap on the hard ground before the door stopped her briefly short. Shuddering, she set it carefully aside, then went to work, pulling the fallen boards away from the structure.

Beneath her rioting thoughts she was afraid. Afraid he would do it. Turn around right this minute and walk out of her life again. She couldn't stop him, he would do what he wanted to do, he always did. 

Thick and thin, for what seemed like forever they'd had each other’s backs! Geez, if only... if they both just stayed here, well, then things could be like they were before. It would be so perfect. They could... could...

She yanked a loose nail from a board, resisting the urge to fling it as hard as she could. Get real. That's what *he'd* say. This wasn't some fairy tale, all rainbows and glitter and story-book endings. This was hard reality. Real life, complete with all of its losses, all of its partings. All of its freakin’ changes! Coming to terms with the hurt of those partings was part of the game of surviving. Making it, not letting the inevitable, the inexorable, beat you down. He'd said these things to her-- how many times? Especially in those early days, before she’d come to Xavier’s. 

Why couldn't things be simpler, the way they used to be, not so very long ago? People, places, things, all shifting, all becoming... something different. She hated it. It was too much. She would bury her feelings in this labor. Fix up her special place as best she could, stay out here for the rest of her break. And then.... after that little deadline came and went, and people realized she was still around, that she hadn’t gone back to the Academy... that's when it would all hit the fan, big time. She felt her pulse quicken at the thought, and sternly told herself to stay focused and strong. She wasn’t leaving Xavier’s school again, no way! The inevitable showdown with the Professor would be worth it. She was going to raise the stakes of this game, be strong in her decision. It was time-- past time-- for her to show everyone that she had a backbone.

She didn't hear Wolvie approaching until he was close. Turning at the slight scuff of gravel, she found him with a hammer and a box of nails in his hands. 

"You'll need these," he said roughly. "There's an extension ladder in the back of the barn."

"There is? Since when?" She remembered him telling her how Peter would throw him into the loft when they were out here stacking bales, and how she’d asked him to do the same to her when the old wooden ladder had proved to be unsafe. It seemed a thousand years ago. The very idea of a new ladder bothered her. Made of clanky, clunky metal, undoubtedly. Not at all like the nice old wooden one, battered and familiar. Didn't matter if it was broken and unusable! It went with the barn. It was... friendly. This new one wouldn't fit here. Cripes, this was ridiculous though, so upset about a ladder! But it was just the same thing all over again, wasn't it? Does *nothing* stay the same, nothing at all? 

"Why'd you all of a sudden want a new ladder?" she said, aware that her tone was querulous and whiny but unable to stop it. "We were perfectly fine here without one."

"Wasn't me, made that decision." He shrugged. "I suppose Pete decided to stay healthy an' not get too close t' me anymore." 

Well. That was kind of... sad. 

"Be careful," he said, handing over the tools. "Don't go fallin' off it, alright?" 

Blinking hard, she took the items from him, turned quickly away. Okay. He cared about her still, in spite of his intention to leave. Maybe that was something that would never change. But even so. He was leaving. He wouldn't be there for her any more. She felt her anger draining away, sorrow welling to fill the void.

"Jubilee, wait." He reached out, hand stopping just short of her arm. “Listen, I'm sorry I yelled. You scared the hell outta me back there."

She looked back at him. "I scared the hell outta me, too."

They paused, looking into each other's eyes.

"Jubes... Y' must know... it ain't that I don't care," he said finally, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I do." Oh, how good it was to hear that. "What d'you want me to say? I don't know who I am anymore. You understand what that means? I can't-- I don't know what I'm *capable* of. Every day I'm different. A little more... wild. I'm so damn pissed all the time. I wanna fight. I want to..." His eyes closed, his mouth formed a hard line. When he opened his eyes again, resolve was plain on his face. "I need to deal with the consequences of all this. I'm done toein' the line, tryin' to make nice. It ain't in me anymore." His fists were clenched, he was getting angry, frustrated. "This is just one more thing I got no choice about. I stay, people are gonna get hurt. Safest thing is for me t’ be as far from humanity as I can get."

"Wolvie, I bet Professor X can help you. I heard him talking to somebody-- I don't know who it was-- but he said he wants to look at you and Creed together, and-- "

There was that flash of teeth again. "Chuck's crazy if he thinks I'd agree to that. I ain't about t’ give him a chance t' lock me up."

"But that's not what he's gonna do. He'd never do that to y--"

"How the hell do you know? He locked up Creed. Nobody's without their goddamn hidden agendas!"

"But you're nothing like Sabretooth! And-- just wait a minute, listen, I was thinking. You *are* kinda like a new mutant, though, you know? With all that's happened? You should stay. Please. Why can't you stay and learn how to handle this new you? Right here. You could, could--"

"More Danger Room sessions? More Chuck-- you think all I gotta do is ask him real nice an' he'll stay outta my head? After all this? No way. I ain't no goddamn newbie, Jubilee. I know what I'm doin'." He was scowling, shifting from foot to foot.

Was he so determined to leave? He wouldn't even try? 

Suddenly his head lifted sharply and he turned to face the forest with a growl so deep she felt it rumbling through her body. Sniffing into the steady breeze, he looked as if he was about to go haring off into the woods. 

"What is it? What's wrong?" she said.

His gaze went to her, and back again to the trees. For just an instant there'd been a strange look in his eyes. Something besides anger. Was it... could it have been... fear? No. Not fear. Apprehension was what she saw lurking behind his gaze, like that rat hiding between the hay bales.

"Nothin'. It's nothin'," he said finally. 

Obviously it was something. This was important, judging from his strong-- and for him, strange-- reaction. She would try to coax it out of him. And continue her efforts to persuade him to stay. But not now. Now wasn’t the time.

"Well then, forget it, whatever it is," she said, grasping his arm to turn him away from the woods. He needed a distraction. "Help me fix the barn today. Will you? Please, Wolvie? C'mon. It'll be like-- I need your help. I don't think I can do it alone. It shouldn't take too long, with the both of us."

"Alright," he said after a long while. "Alright. Let's get started. Let's do this." 

 

00000000000000000000000000000000000 

 

Easily they fell in synch, almost like... almost like they really were a team again. Just the two of them, on their own.

She pounded her emotions out against the wood and the nails, wielding her hammer with big sweeping strokes. Discovering that she could drive those nails home with only four solid blows was a small boost to her sagging spirits. 

It felt good to be strong. 

Ryuu had abandoned the barn at the first strikes of their hammers, gliding on silent wings out the big doorway to disappear into the forest. Jubilee would have missed her exit altogether if Wolvie hadn't called to her, directed her attention to the bird's receding form.

With Wolvie under the eaves securing the tops of the planks and she on terra firma doing the same with the bottoms they made good time, methodically moving from board to board, nailing up the fallen, straightening and firming up others that were in the process, all the way around the barn. Repairing its body, its skin. Like plastic surgeons, they were. Giving the old place a face-lift. The image pleased her. 

Some time around mid-afternoon they finished their work. It had turned quite warm, the sun shining brightly down from a cloudless azure sky. Jubilee brought the ladder back inside the barn and dragged a bale out to the shady north side, a place for them to sit, rest. But Wolvie was restless and distracted, looking off to the woods as he paced. Always in the same direction, always to the northeast.

Edging some of Xavier's property, Jubilee knew, scattered along the furthest tracts of woods, were a handful of very old houses that still hung on to tiny plots of forested land, family homes that had sold off most of their acreage to the Professor over the years. Could it be someone living there that had him riled so badly? Maybe this was a good time to broach the subject of his preoccupation with whatever was out there.

"What is it, Wolvie?" she asked finally. "What's the matter?"

His words came with great effort. "Jubilee..." he said, voice strained and low. "This is what I... He's all wrong. He smells like-- lies, like hate an' blood and vengeance... it makes me want to-- to--" His hands were hard fists, lips once again pulled back in a painful, angry grimace, breath hissing through clenched teeth. 

"Who is he? Is he the reason you've been staying outside all this time?"

"No! I told you I been worryin' about the people inside!" he growled. "*Our* people! I ain't safe t' be around. I don't care about him, he ain't worth the goddamn air he breathes!”

Whoa. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Well. He obviously did care about that guy, in a very bad way. But this wasn’t the time to challenge him about that. 

"Tell me about this Academy you're goin' to," he said suddenly, voice hard. 

Alright. Guess it was time for a change of subject again. But... why did he have to bring up that particular subject? 

It was her turn to look away, out over the field.

"Something wrong over there at Frost's place?" he persisted. 

His concern, even though rough and growly, was welcome. Doubly so, given the scope of his own worries right now. She looked into his face, seeking the small, reassuring smile that usually accompanied his expressed concern for her. It wasn't there. 

"Talk to me, girl," he said with some urgency.

"Sit next to me first," she said, and patted the bale. "Please? Take a little breather."

He did so, but slowly and with reluctance.

"Well-- honestly?" she began. "Those kids over there? They don’t like me very much. I think they're jealous 'cause I was an X-Man. They can't handle it! Seriously, I mean I could give them advice on-- well, on strategy, or teamwork, or I could show 'em some of those cool street-fighting moves you taught me. Or-- whatever! I offered to show 'em, but they just... I don't know... they don't care." She sighed impatiently. "They're so mean, Wolvie. Especially the girls! They said I think I'm too good for them, I heard 'em say it! Is it wrong to be proud of what you're good at?"

"Feelin' proud's one thing," he said. "Maybe you're struttin' too much. Makin' like you're cock-of-the-walk." 

"I'm not--! At least I don't think... well, maybe I was... but so what! I mean, geez, I know all *kinds* of stuff they don't. I was an X-Man!"

"So you were an X-Man. Big damn deal. You're also the same age as them and goin' t' school just like they are. Listen. You want to make some friends over there, and help 'em out, try bein' a friend first. Quit competing with 'em. Stop-- bragging."

"I hate that word," she scowled.

"Yeah. The truth can hurt."

She turned, incredulous. "Geez, whose side are you on?"

"Yours, darlin'. Always. You want me to sugar-coat it for ya? Since when d'you need mollycoddlin’?"

He made as if to pat a pocket. "Damn. I could use a smoke." He was becoming agitated again. "Those girls-- you better watch 'em, Jubilee. They could turn on you like that. An' lemme tell ya, a pack o' pissed off teenage females is something you don't wanna mess with. Listen. You want, I'll take care of 'em for you. Just say the word." This said with vehemence.

Arms wrapped around her bent knees, cheek resting lightly upon them, Jubilee looked up at him and sighed. "You don't know how often I've imagined just that. Thanks, Wolvie, but you better, um... not. You won't... have to."

He glanced at her. "Why's that?"

"Because... because I'm not going back." There! Relief, in a way. Finally it was out. 

His eyes narrowed. "You're gonna have to duke it out with Charlie, y' know. He won't go easy on you."

"No I won't, not if he doesn't see me." Her voice rose. "If I'm not even here." She grasped his arm. "He can't make me leave again. I-- I'll run away before I go back there, I swear I will!"

"Calm down. Think about this for a minute."

"I don't need to think about it. It's all I've been thinking about!"

"Chuck's right, Jubes. He knows what he's doin'."

"You practically just got done saying you don't trust him!"

"That's different. He has your best interest in mind. He’ll do right by you. Besides, you ain't of an age to do as you like, anyway."

"Ohh-- the age thing? I thought you of all people wouldn't pull that one out."

"It's the truth, girl.”

"Why should my age have anything to do with what I *know*, what I *want*?"

"Listen, sometimes you got to be told what to do in order to learn what to do. Not just you. Everybody. It’s part of growin’ up. It's good for you to get away from here, meet new people, hear some new ideas. Learn to deal with crap like you're facing. I know it seems easier to run--"

"Like you're planning on doing." 

"That's different, whether you can see it or not. This Academy could be a good thing. You need to... create your own shadow. Start steppin' out from mine."

"What if I like being in your shadow?" she said. "It's-- comfortable."

He gave her a level look.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Jubilee. I know it can be hard, takin' those first steps. 'Specially if in the short run they might be headin' in a direction you don't wanna go. You been feedin' off your anger for a long time, that feelin' of bein' done to. I know how that is. Anger's real good at camouflaging things. Like your real, deep-down feelings. Like common sense. I just want you to stop an' think. Look inside yourself, really look, before you make any kind of decision."

"I'm not going back," she said softly. "I'm just-- not. I'm done thinking about it."

He blew out a hard breath. "You can be stubborn as all get-out. You're makin' a mistake. Especially if you're gonna run off. That's a stupid thing to do, an' you ain't stupid. So don't do it. Promise me that, at least."

"I can't. I'm gonna do what I have to. To survive. That's *my* agenda. The survival of Jubilation Lee."

"You're tryin' to survive by resisting change, girl. That'll get you, in the end. You'll be weeded out."

"Well I guess it's just survival of the fittest all over the place isn't it? So be it! Weed away! I *am* a survivor!"

By then she was glaring, defiant. After a moment of glaring back he murmured, "Alright, stalemate. For now. But we ain't done talkin' about this." He got to his feet. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Slowly she followed him inside. He gestured to the two upright support posts nearest the front of the barn, pointing out several long, thin splits in the wood.

"Oh, no..." she breathed, running worried fingers over the cracks. Looking closely she realized one of the support posts even had a slight bend to it. Those outer boards they'd worked on all day were cosmetic. This was the core of the barn, these supports. If they couldn't solve this problem, the barn really was doomed. 

"It's like its heart is broken." She sucked in a breath, looking quickly away. Geez. Did she really just say that? Wolvie glanced at her sharply. 

"Nothin' we can't fix," he said. "It's gonna take a lot o' work, though."

He turned abruptly. She watched him walk out of the barn, and melt into the forest.

"Wolvie!" she called out in alarm. Where was he off to? Was he going to the mystery man out there? "Wait, where are you going?" 

Like distant thunder his voice rumbled back from the trees. "Relax. I'll be back." 

 

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She made a few circuits around the barn while she waited, looking critically at their work, and couldn't help but feel a little proud. They'd done a great job. The barn looked better than ever. But the split beam, and the barn's listing stance refused to leave her thoughts. Whatever could be done to fix that? It seemed too big a job for just the two of them. She hoped he was trying to figure out a solution, wherever he was, whatever he was doing.

In their labor they had trampled down some of the lush spring growth that was crowded around the structure. She knelt to inspect the bent, flattened grasses more closely, combing her fingers gently through their tangles, lifting them away from the damp ground. These plants were fresh and strong, resilient in their youth. They’d recover. By early summer, she knew, these grasses would be tall and thick, swaying in the wind, seed heads nodding. And the morning glory vines that grew close along the base of the barn would blossom soon after, with beautiful blue flowers like jewels scattered among their heart-shaped leaves. All of it a delight to see.

When she'd lived in Beverly Hills, when her parents were with her, she never really gave much thought to things like this, the natural world. It was Wolvie that had helped her to see and appreciate those things. 

Jubilee smiled, sat back on her heels. She was grateful he had opened her eyes to the beauty and complexity of nature. It really was amazing. Just think, from tiny, unassuming seeds intricate plants emerged, plants that made the earth come alive with their exhaled oxygen. Plants that moved her with their beauty, their purpose. How remarkable it was that a seed could change so much, become something so absolutely different from itself, and yet at its heart stay the same.

The grasses here around the barn looked to be the same kind that grew by the shore of the little pond where she and Wolvie had sat after his metal was taken, the afternoon before he left. She remembered him idly running his fingers through their blades just as she was doing now. How she had plucked a long stem and stuck it into the band of his cowboy hat. She’d watched the heavy seed head dip and sway in the breeze as he snoozed beside her. When they'd walked back to the mansion and she had teased him about looking like an ol' country bumpkin he'd smiled, and tucked the stem behind her ear. 

It was that night that he gave her his hat and left, and with his departure both stem and hat became very precious to her. She brought them out here to the barn, up to the loft. Put the grass stem back into the band and hung the hat on a nail high up to keep it safe. By the window, where he liked to watch the sun set, so he could easily find it when he came home again. 

Her smile faded. Poor Wolvie. So distressed, so at war with himself. How she wished she could help him now, wished she could do more, somehow ease his worries. She'd been so focused on herself, on her own persistent problems. Please, just let him be at peace, let him not be out there obsessing about or... stalking that guy. She shivered. The image of him stealthily creeping, anger mounting, was not pleasant. 

There must be a reason Wolvie was so intently, violently focused on that dude in the woods because he didn't hurt innocent people. He just-- didn't! Could his obsession mean that guy wasn't so innocent, after all? She sighed in frustration. Whatever! Wolvie wouldn't just go off and murder him! He'd spared that psycho Victor Creed, and Joe Blow out there surely was a lightweight compared to Sabretooth! 

With a deep sigh she got to her feet and wandered back inside the barn, seeking a distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. She peered into the old tack room, a place she usually avoided along with the feed room opposite because their dusty shelves and flaking walls were so thickly hung with spider webs it gave her the willies just imagining all the creepy-crawlies lurking in there. But just inside the door leaned an old wicker rake, fuzzy with filth, draped with webs. Here was a job just waiting for her. She could spiff up the inside of the barn while she waited. Just the thing. Gingerly she reached in and pulled the rake out, whacked it against the floor several times to dislodge any stowaways. 

Jubilee worked hard, cleaning out every stall, thinking about Wolvie's suggestion that Peter was avoiding him by bringing in that new ladder. He had to be mistaken about that. Pete was his good friend, had always understood him, supported him. With Wolvie not around much anymore, Peter needed a ladder to get into the loft to work. That's all. 

Might as well use the darn thing, right? She dragged it over. Sure was easier to climb up to the mow from right here inside the barn. A lot nicer, too. The silo was so icky inside. This ladder had actually been a big help today, but still... ugh! Clanky, clunky metal! She imagined Wolvie slashing it into pieces just like he'd done to the wooden one. Even bone claws would make short work of this great ugly thing... wouldn't they? Well. Anyway. Their work today could not have been accomplished without it. Maybe this ladder had earned its place here. 

Rake in hand, mulling over the thought that some changes weren't so bad... maybe even good, Jubilee ascended those sturdy metal rungs to the loft. It would be nice to bed down tonight not in her straw room but near the window, so she could look out at the night sky as she waited for sleep to find her. She paused among the hay bales to open her pack, place the flashlight on the bale by the window along with her sweatshirt and jacket. An armful or two of fresh straw on the floor with her blanket spread over it would make a comfortable, fragrant bed. Her jacket would serve well as a pillow, and if it got too cool she could slip on her sweatshirt. 

But she was still spooked by her near fall earlier today. Quickly she dragged another bale out, positioning it right in front of the mow window. There! Much better. The window was secure now, and the bale looked low enough that it wouldn't block much if any of her view of the stars. Finally satisfied with her bedtime preparations, she hung her pack and Wolvie’s hat back up on those convenient nails and continued her raking. 

That was when she realized that her little straw room looked different than she remembered. The walls now were made entirely of hay, not alternated with bales of yellow straw like before. And the bales were fresh, colors vibrant. What the heck...? Who would have...? 

The small box that had been her table, Wolvie's booze box, was still sitting inside the little room. Peeking inside it she found three new, unopened bottles of his Jim Beam whiskey and three of... Smirnoff vodka. As far as she knew, Wolvie didn't drink vodka. But Peter did. Aw, man. Pete had to've been up here. He must have put these bottles here, as a kind of message, right? She could practically hear him saying in his deep, clear voice... *Za vashe zdorovye, Logan my friend! I wait for you, tovarisch, for the time we will again throw the bales, and drink at sunset to hard work well completed*. 

Good ol' Peter! There were wonderful people in the world, for sure. It would make Wolvie happy to see this, to know that Peter had come up here and that he was thinking about their friendship. And he'd done such a nice thing for her, too. Made her room all sweet-smelling and new. He must be counting on her coming home some day. Maybe he was right-- her time at the Academy wouldn't last forever, even though it felt like it sometimes. She hadn't really thought of that. Wow, just... wow. Such a sweet, gentle guy Pete was, beneath all the brawn. Friends like him were precious, and just what Wolvie needed. She was grateful for Peter's loyalty. That’s how it was with people that cared about you. They did for you what you needed. They were selfless.

She sighed as she closed the box, and then paused. That was exactly what the Professor’d been doing when he’d sent her off to the Academy, wasn't it? Trying to do for her what he thought she needed. There had been no malice in his decision. He had no... hidden agenda. He just wanted her to be equipped to deal with whatever crossed her path, as he did with all his students. Wolvie sure seemed to think she could trust him. So-- why did he send her away to Emma's Academy, if it wasn't to just-- get rid of her? 

Maybe the Professor felt she needed something that his school could not provide. Something the Academy had. But what? What could it be? The only thing she could think of was... kids her age. There were plenty of 'em over at Emma's, and not *any* here. That had to be it. A girl needed interaction with kids her age, for sure. It made sense. She *had* missed that, for a long time. It always made her feel a bit guilty though, like she was betraying Wolvie by wanting someone other than him to pal around with. He really wasn't too keen on hanging out at the mall or roller skating. Trying on make-up. She giggled at that silly thought. You couldn't blame him. 

But-- oh, hey! You know what? Come to think of it, maybe there was a reason the Prof had been kind of brusque with her the day he'd told her his plans for her. Maybe he was having a hard time sending her away. Was it difficult for him to see her go? Could it be that he was being... selfless? 

Jubilee frowned, and rapped her rake against the floor. She sure hadn't been selfless when Wolvie'd told her he was leaving. Geez.

But things were... changing, in her mind. She was beginning to see a different, larger picture. One where she wasn't at the center of everything that was happening. And that, at least... was a good thing. That was what you call progress.

With renewed enthusiasm she went back to her work, sweeping the old bedding out of her hay room, pushing the pile out through the mow window and from there, into a great, loose pile at the edge of the woods, for the forest inhabitants to use in their nests and burrows.

There was no sign anywhere of a ratty population, thankfully. She wondered what'd happened to the thing. Hoped he-- or she-- was safe. Wolvie called critters like that nature's smorgasbord. Mice and voles. Chipmunks, squirrels, rabbits. Because they were so abundant, and because just about everybody else in the woods ate 'em. Geez. What a life that must be, a tasty tidbit on everybody's menu.

Breaking open new bales, Jubilee discovered, spreading their freshness throughout her little room and a few of the stalls below was a wonderfully satisfying thing. The rich, almost succulent smell, the rough and at the same time moist texture of it in her hands... its pleasing palette of soft greens and hints of gold... there were even some tiny dried flowers here and there on the stems. Several different kinds of grass made up these bales apparently, if the multiple types of seed heads within were any indication. Mother Nature's bounty, for sure. She would have liked to become a horse, just for a little while, so she could have a taste of this wonderful stuff. What would Wolvie do, if he came in and saw her transformed, contentedly munching away? She couldn't help but grin a little at the thought.

Finished at last with her tasks, pleasantly tired and ready for another little break, she plopped herself down on the bale outside, wiping perspiration from her brow with a forearm, pushing her fingers through her damp hair. The barn wall was warm, comforting against her back. Such a beautiful day it had turned out to be. The sun was sinking behind the low backdrop of far-away trees in the west, throwing long shadows across the field. Birds were singing all around. Insects were buzzing too, a constant drone like tiny buzz-saws, but nicer. Kind of... hypnotic, that sound. What kind of bugs were they, anyway, that they could make such a noise? 

What could Wolvie be doing, why was he taking so long? Maybe she should go and search for him. But where to start? No, no. Better to remain here. She had to remember, keep it fixed in her mind. He said he'd be back... and he always does what he says...

Her eyes drifted closed. 

When she opened them again she was slumped onto her side, cheek pressed into the bale's grassy roughness. It was full dark. The temperature had fallen, and the moon was edging its way up behind the tree line. She sat up, rubbing her arms. Alarm sparked through her as she realized that Wolvie still had not returned. I should have looked for him, she silently berated herself. Instead of passing out! Why wasn't he back yet? Could he possibly have left for good? Please, no, not... not yet! Maybe something happened. Maybe he was--

Suddenly, from far out of the forest came a low, trembly sort of moan that slowly rose up the scale and held for a beat before dropping quickly down again to silence. It lifted the hair on her arms, the nape of her neck. Not a wolf, not a dog, nor a coyote had uttered that cry.

It was him. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. He hadn't left. Thank God. His fierce, troubled face wavered in her mind's eye. So eerie, so... desperate, that haunting wail. She ached for him, what he must be feeling, to give voice for all to hear. On the howls went, short periods of silence between. His anguish hurt her. She understood it well. Because in some ways, they really were so much alike. Each of them trying to deal with changing life paths. Each in their own way struggling to find themselves, a result of events beyond their control. He, at Magneto's hands, suffering a hurt so terrible and swift it turned his life in an instant to-- well, kind of like the lives of those little creatures of the woods. How awful had it been, to go in the span of a few heartbeats from hunter to hunted? From just about invulnerable, to staring his mortality right in the eyes, like that poor rat up in the haymow? 

And herself? What about her own wound, older, not quite so painful now as it used to be. One that she felt every day, even so. Her entire world had been taken from her, ripped straight from her heart. How terribly, how painfully she missed her parents. Longed to tell them she loved them still, always. And tell them too how grateful she was to have had them, even for so short a time.

Her thoughts took only a fraction of a second as the last notes of his final howl trembled on the wind, and the silence of the woods descended.

I have to go to him, help him! She started to her feet. The blackness of the forest confronted her like something solid and she turned to retrieve her flashlight, imagining how it would be to stumble upon him deep in the trees, see him suddenly, rudely illuminated by the flashlight’s beam, and him whipping around in absolute fury at the blinding intrusion. Slowly she sank back down onto the bale. Cripes, that would not be good. Maybe blundering through the woods in search of him would only make things worse. Probably the best thing, on second thought, would be to just sit tight and wait, right here. She had to trust he would do as he'd said, and return.

He told her to relax. It was good advice. She let her eyes close, concentrated on calming her breathing and willing her rigid body to unlock, to lean back into a comfortable slump.

Her hands were clutching hard into the bale beneath her, so hard it hurt to loosen her grip. She pulled a handful of hay away, held it to her nose, inhaling that scent she loved so much. So calming, so aromatic. Looking more closely at the seed heads she chose one similar to the one adorning the stem in Wolvie's hatband and rolled the bristly thing between her fingers. The seeds came away, sprinkling her lap, raining upon the ground around her feet. Ah! I freed them, she thought, and smiled. That was weird idea. Freeing seeds? Well, sure! By releasing them from their brittle, pod-like housings she'd given them a chance to fulfill their... potential. 

Now there was a loaded word. Potential. She shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it was time to face facts here. What about herself? She sure wasn't living up to her own potential, was she? She was avoiding it, running from it! Griping about the Academy, how much she hated it there, the girls were so mean, wah, wah, wah. It wasn't the Academy or those girls that was the problem. 

She'd always thought of herself as strong. Resilient, like those grasses. Able to spring back. She had changed, everything had changed when her parents died. It always came back to that, didn't it? Because that was when change for her became a fearful thing. Loss, nothing more. Certainly not opportunity! That was when living became not joyous, but filled with a sort of angry desperation. Elude the authorities. Find enough to eat. Find shelter. Don't think about what happened! Find... a friend. 

She leaned back and closed her eyes as a memory suddenly surfaced. Herself, standing in the kitchen of the home where she grew up. Crying in frustration about some incomprehensible, long-forgotten slight from a neighbor girl. 

"You must forgive," her mother had said to her, drying her tears, enfolding her in a hug. "For forgiveness opens the mind to understanding." The words were so clear, it was almost as if Mother was right here, right now, whispering in her ear.

Mom, oh, Mom. You're still helping me, aren’t you? 

She had forgiven her parents for leaving her, for dying. She'd come to terms with that. Could she forgive Wolvie for following his heart, even though there was no room for her on his path? It was hard, so hard! For even though she thought she understood his need, this change-- no, she had to face it-- all change-- felt like a kind of death to her. Loss was to be avoided, because every time something or someone left her, it felt like a big piece of herself was wrenched away, never to return. It hurt. Too much.

Jubilee started when the sound of heavy blows began to shudder through the forest. Wood breaking, cracking like gunshots. Two tremendous, ground-shaking thuds followed by a terrible roar of rage. What was going on? What could he be doing out there? Why... why couldn't he just come back, go inside to the people who loved and cared about him, who were his family, and wanted only to help him? Was that naive, to wish such a thing for Wolvie right now, given his state of mind, and all that had happened to him? 

No. Surely it wasn't. 

She had found herself again, here in this place. A semblance of family had been given back to her when Wolvie brought her here to the mansion to live. Who would have thought that she would get even a scrap of that back again, especially at a school? Certainly not her. But her transformation from lost and alone to found and loved had in fact been reality, and for it she would be forever grateful. To Wolvie, to everyone here that cared about her, made her so happy. The easy, unconditional love that surrounded her here since day one was the treatment that had succeeded in beating back her melancholy, tethering that awful feeling of being adrift. She knew she made a show at times of how independent she was, how strong and self-reliant. There were few people that knew how hard it had been for her sometimes. Wolvie of course. Kitty. Professor X. Jean. It was they that made her feel like Xavier's was home. 

It had taken a long time for her to realize that she wasn't rejecting her parents when she'd finally, fully embraced the friendship and love that was offered to her here.

It wasn't a rejection, was it, this need of Wolvie's to go away? It was an acceptance. Of what he felt he needed to do, and how he needed to do it. 

Bravery and strength of will. That was Wolvie. His courageous soul was shining forth, as it always did. Her admiration for him swelled in her heart, made her breath catch, tears sting her eyes. Here he was, determined to leave the people and the place he loved more than anything, his sanctuary, his refuge, to do what he needed to do for himself. And in his own mind at least, for everyone else, too.

She had to tell him she had come to terms with his departure. It didn't mean she liked the fact of his leaving. But she could return to him the kindness he'd shown her, in this very small way. Stop giving him grief, give him her blessing instead. Then he could go away with a clear conscience. Follow his path. 

Such a little thing, really. If only she’d done it from the beginning. 

Something was approaching, a very large something, accompanied by the sound of heavy dragging and brittle breaking. Grunts of exertion. Wolvie? Maybe, maybe not. She stepped quickly into the barn, peered carefully through a narrow gap between boards.

Her jaw dropped when he came into view, moonlight once again painting him in a wash of silver. Panting and straining, he was dragging two enormous tree trunks. The much-needed support beams! But-- holy cats, two trees at once? How strong was he? He let them drop close to the barn and... attacked, slashing with claws out, clearing the remaining branches in a whirlwind of flying limbs and shredded leaves. 

Eagerly she stepped through the doorway. 

He spun, looking so fierce she stepped back and raised her hands defensively.

"You know better'n t' sneak up on me," he snarled.

"Since when have I ever tried to sneak up on you? Are you alright? I heard you out there. It sounded like something was really wrong."

"Somethin' was. Is."

"What is it? I was worried you were gonna go back to check out that-- that person you've been so upset about... "

There was a pause. "I did go back," he growled. "An' y' know what? That person is about this close to becomin' worm-food."

"No! Oh, Wolvie, who is he? What'd he do?" Would he tell her now, finally, why he was so obsessed with this guy?

With savage ferocity he scythed the last few limbs away. "He's nothin'. A goddamn wife beater, is all he is."

"A wife beater? Seriously? Oh my God! What a low-life, what a scuzz-bag! But-- but-- I mean-- don't get mad Wolvie, I'm not defending the creep but maybe-- maybe this guy can change his ways, you know? He doesn't deserve havin' his head cut off or--or--" 

"I know," he snarled. "I know! Ya think I don't? Why d'ya think I'm workin' on this? I killed trees tonight, instead o' that bastard."

He seized the end of a trunk and dragged it into the barn, through the rectangle of moonlight on the floor just inside, disappearing into the gloom beyond. Disappearing...

How long would it take to put up these new supports? How long would it be before he left for good? She followed him in, steadying her hands by gripping them into determined fists.

"Wolvie, wait a minute! Before you start. There's something I want to tell you."

"What is it?" He let the tree trunk thud to the ground and turned to her. 

"I just want to say that I'm-- I'm okay with it, with you leaving. I know you feel have to do this. I understand what you've been telling me, and... I'm sorry I raised such a stink about it before." He was facing her, facing the open door. Her moon-shadow stretched between them. The soft light reflected back from his eyes in shimmers of yellow, of green. As she watched his head tipped slightly, the way it did when he took in scent, and her heart skipped. Would he call her on this? She wasn't lying, not exactly, not... fully. She didn't like it, still didn't agree with his reasoning, but if he must go she was determined it be with peace in his heart. His lips tensed into a line. Was that a hint of a smile? Or just a trick of the light... 

He stepped closer. His hand gently cupped her cheek.

"There's my girl," he murmured. "Thanks, Jubes."

Briefly she pressed her cheek into his hand's warm roughness. She would not cry. She would not. When at last she lifted her head, he turned quickly away and reached for the trunk at his feet.

"Are you--" she cleared her throat, swallowed. "Are you putting them in now Wolvie? Isn't it too dark?"

"I can see fine." 

"Wait a sec, I need to grab my flashlight. I can't see like you do!" 

Up the ladder she sped. Back in an instant, Jubilee plunged the end of her light into a bale close to the weak support. The narrow yellow beam struggled to reach the ceiling, mixing oddly with the silvered moonlight. 

Multi-faceted shadows swirled and swung as Wolvie moved about. From the back of the barn he brought a huge sledgehammer and some other things she couldn't make out. The solid sound of metal clanking against metal as he dropped them near the post told her they had to be more tools of some sort.

"Get outta the way, Jubes. Now." 

With great effort he pushed a trunk upright alongside the old support, grunting and straining. The trunk was too tall to fit. He shoved it hard, and when it was wedged and would hold without toppling he grabbed the sledgehammer and popped his claws, quickly climbing the post beside it, up onto the crossbeam. Holding the trunk firmly, he lopped several inches from the end, taking the time to make the cut even and straight, until the new beam snugged up to the weakened support and the horizontal beam above nearly perfectly. Then with the heavy sledgehammer he pounded the trunk the rest of the way into place.

"Alright," he called down, setting the hammer down on the crossbeam. "C'mere. Toss me the box of nails and the single-jack. Right there, that little sledge. Sucker's heavy, can you manage?"

She picked it up. "Sure."

"Get outta the way when ya let go, in case your throw's off, case I miss. You don't wanna get beaned." 

Using both hands Jubilee heaved the hammer, a sweeping, underhand toss. Her throw was spot-on, and Wolvie snatched it out of the air, embellishing his grab with a flourish in her direction. 

The nails were huge things, great long spikes, and heavy too. The box they were in nearly came open when she tossed it, but again he managed to catch it neatly. He drove the spikes in, methodically working all the way around, before moving on to the other post.

This one was the weaker of the two, the one making the barn list. A more difficult job, needing to be shored up with scrap wood and extra braces at the top after the new beam was finally set. It was all of it very hard work, work that Wolvie threw himself into. 

"Need to get some strapping plates, and anchor the posts together, good an' tight," he said when he had finally finished and jumped to the ground, wiping the sweat from his face. "Probably should set 'er in cement, too, but I think she'll do alright for now."

"It's perfect," Jubilee said. "It's just right! Oh Wolvie, you did it. You saved the barn." *Just like you saved me*. "You're a hero!"

He turned away. "One thing I sure as hell ain't is a goddamn hero."

"But you are. You are to me," she said to his back. "You'll always be my hero." 

He did not speak again, but stood, absently rubbing his hands together, still facing not toward the new beams, not toward her, but out, through the open door. 

A feeling of unreality washed over her. Was this it? Was it happening, then? Was he leaving, right now? Or-- was he on his way to low-life's house out there in the woods? He suddenly turned, and their eyes met. There was nothing to keep him here. Their work was done. And... she'd given him her blessing. Back again he faced the door, head lifting, turning, as he took in scent. One foot ghosted forward, and then the other.

Briefly he was framed by the barn's doorway, silhouette strong and black against the paler woods.

And then he was gone, swallowed up by the night. 

 

0000000000000000000000000000000000 

 

Some time later, up in the loft, Jubilee half-heartedly poured a handful of trail mix onto a corner of her blanket, pushed the hay bale away from the window and sat down. Outside, scatterings of stars sparkled down from a velvet sky dominated by the moon hanging just above the tree line.

On impulse she released a couple small pafs out into the dark. Watched them arc, spin, and sputter out.

Not so long ago, that was all it would have taken to bring Wolvie hurrying to her side. Her heart contracted painfully and she hit the floor with her fist, a good resounding thump. It wasn't fair, geez! It just wasn't! He didn't even say good-bye...

No. Whining about everything was stupid. This fairness thing had to stop. Get over it. Deal with it! She had to be tough. For him. For herself.

She curled up on her side, an arm for a pillow, staring unseeing out into the dark fields. All the emotion, all the unshed tears of this day were close to the surface, and threatening to overflow. 

"Oh, the hell with it!" she murmured, and let them come, clutching her blanket to her face, her body, as she cried into it. His leaving hurt more than she’d ever anticipated. She was on her own now. Really, truly, on her own. Would she ever see him again? His absence felt like standing too close to the mow window edge. It was awful, it was scary. He was so much more than just a friend, he had through the years become someone so special that it defied category. His gruff ways, his fierce, concerned eyes, his support and guidance and caring. Everything, all of it, gone. 

Now he was a permanent addition to that terrible list of losses she'd suffered in her life. 

She missed him already. She was just so... tired. Of everything. Her body felt limp, inert and heavy against the floor. Like she was melting. Eventually she would seep right through, and fall in long drips to the ground below, there to be slowly absorbed into the earth. Everything was a blur, awash in tears and sadness. Where were all those stars she'd been wanting to see? She was floundering, feeling her way, fear needling along her nerves. She couldn’t make out what was ahead. The edge, where was it? It felt close, so very close. She must not fall! 

With a start she came awake and discovered she was indeed close to the window, without her protective bale in place. Heart pounding, she scooted back, and shoved the bale to its spot. Her face was wet, her nose drippy and gross, had she been crying even in her sleep? A shirttail would serve just as well as a paper towel. She pulled it up, and mopped her face.

On her back moments later, blinking miserably up at the barn roof overhead, at the walls stretching away into the dark, she lay quietly, feeling her heartbeat begin to slow. With gentle fingers she pushed the scattered straw away from her sides and pressed her palms flat against the smooth, worn floorboards.

Wolvie may be gone, but *this* was still here. Her beautiful barn. At least she still had that.

But she couldn’t help it, she wanted more. Deserved more. She wanted Wolvie here too. He was her strength and her confidant. He was her friend. She wanted them to solve their problems right here, together. She was safe with him. He was safe with her. Neither of them needed to be... afraid, when they had each other.

His growly voice grumbled in her mind. *The real me is comin' out. I want to fight. People could get hurt*... 

But she knew better. He saved her life today. He was no risk to those he knew, those he loved, and no danger to the blameless ones. There was no evil here. 

There was just Wolvie, struggling with his mutation, wrestling with his loyal, savage  
heart. 

 

000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

Some... noise? Slowly Jubilee opened her eyes, blinking out at the night. There it was again, a furtive little rustle. She grabbed her flashlight. Ryuu was not in sight, but the rat was back, sitting right beside her blanket, a piece of granola clutched in its hand-like paws.

"Oh. Ick. Thanks a lot. Now I can't eat that," Jubilee murmured. The rat shifted so that it could keep its black-bead eyes trained on her, but didn't pause in its feasting. If anything the speed of the tiny champing jaws increased.

She propped her trusty flashlight against the window bale, leaned back against the wall, and watched the rat as it fed. "I sure hope you aren't a girl. I hope you aren't planning on having a buncha babies up here," she said. Then she shrugged. "Well, you got the right to do what you need to do too, don't you, ratty?" 

I guess that's what we're all doing, she thought. Everybody, every little creature in this world. Doing what we need to survive.

So what did *she* need to do? She scrubbed hard at her face, the feel and the motion seeming to clear away the last shreds of indecision clouding her mind. There was a choice before her. This was a crossroads, wasn't it? A feeling of determination quietly settled around her heart. Just a bit ago she’d thought she deserved more. Well hey, news flash, what she deserved, what she got, was up to her. She could knuckle under, melt into a sniveling puddle of helplessness and fall through the cracks, or she could do an about-face, and choose a new direction.

She'd bet a million bucks Wolvie figured she wouldn't just curl up and die after he left.

It hurt to let him go. It hurt him to let *her* go. She could see now that when she’d found Wolvie she had clung to his protection and strength so hard she pretty much gave up trying to stand on her own. But clinging to someone to avoid your own pain was a selfish thing-- the opposite of selfless. 

It would take real conviction, real commitment, for her to step out from his shadow, and find her own way. To be not just Wolverine’s sidekick, but uniquely herself. 

It was a new day, and time for a new way of being. Enough lying here bawling, weak and afraid. That wasn't who she was! Up onto her own two feet she would stand, and throw off the mantle of fear and doubt she'd been wearing for so long. And-- you know? Why stop there? She didn't have to simply survive, like she had said so adamantly to Wolvie earlier. She could strive to thrive. The moment was here!

It would feel so good to deal with life's changes bravely, exuberantly, like she used to. Face the day with joy in her heart, even without Wolvie by her side. To be strong and confident again, for her own good, just for herself.

I lost the trust I had for everybody here, my own self included. But that's over. I think I've found it again, and with it, I've found myself too. 

So once more. What did she need to do? The answer really wasn't so difficult at all, was it? 

She needed to live up to the name he had given her. Be the Fireworks Girl once again. 

I can do it, she thought fiercely. I know I can! My power makes me special. I'll create my own shadow by the light of my fireworks! I have the strength to step back from the edge, I can direct myself, see my future by my own brilliant light. I won't fail! I won't fall! 

And in the doing of these things, she knew, she would return to who she truly was. 

It was like placing the final puzzle-piece down, really seeing the entire picture unencumbered, spread out before her for the first time. The rightness of her decision and the peace it carried settled all the way down to her bones. It felt like... coming home. Now wasn't that something!

Just think how it will be if-- when-- Wolvie returns. He would see her standing beside him as an equal, not hiding in his shadow any more. 

She wished she could tell Wolvie how she felt, the peace that her decision brought her, and how much his advice had helped her to find it. She could let him know in another way. By her actions. Because maybe, hopefully, some day he would come back here, when he’d found himself out there in the wild. And when he did he would hear about how well she was, and he would know how much he'd helped her, how she had taken his advice to heart. 

She hoped fervently that Wolvie was feeling some of the peace she was feeling right now, wherever he was. That he would succeed in his quest for his identity. What was he thinking about right now, was he wondering when next they would they see each other? Was he mulling over in what ways each of them would be different, by the time they met again? 

Who was she, without Wolvie? Why, she was Jubilation. And who was he, without Jubilee? He was... himself. Logan. Enough said.

The night was so beautiful. Serene and still. Just like inside the barn. Like her heart, her mind, now. Tomorrow she would find the Professor, and talk to him about... everything. She got up, took Wolvie’s hat down from the nail, set it on the bale beside her, to keep it close. Removed a bottle of water and the paper towels from her pack and with them cleaned her face, neck and hands, her arms. It felt good. She wasn’t of the forest like Wolvie, and could only stand so much woodsiness on herself.

The rat had continued munching, undisturbed by all her activity, but suddenly it started, thrust a questing nose into the air, seized another chunk of granola and scampered off between the bales.

Her heart leaped in joyous disbelief when she heard Wolvie enter the barn, cursing softly, breathing accelerated. 

"Wolvie!" she exclaimed. "Oh Wolvie, wait, wait, I'm coming down!"

"No. Stay put." She could feel his anger and agitation, waves of emotion battering the peace of the barn. He was up the ladder in a flash, seeming bigger than life, bringing with him the loamy, piney scents of the woods. Immediately he began pacing. 

"What happened, what's wrong?" she said.

"I was close Jubilee-- this close!” He held up a fist, popped his claws, arm angled as if he were about to deliver a killing blow, the other stretched out, hand gripping at... somebody's throat? "I had him. I fuckin' had the bastard!"

The wife beater! She could imagine the scene all too vividly. "Oh Wolvie-- why did you go back there? I thought you were on your way t--"

"He's in my brain, I see him when I shut my eyes, I smell him all the time-- I went to look-- make sure, y' know? See if his wife an' kids were okay, but he was beatin' on her again." His searing gaze met hers. "I heard it and I-- still I was gonna leave there, but he chased her outta the house and I got him, I *grabbed* his sorry ass. Fucker screamed like a goddamn baby. Here ya go, you bastard, I'll give y' somethin' to *really* scream about—*rrrrraahhh*!"

With swift and scintillating savagery he cocked his arm fully back and lunged. His strike was so fast his arm was a blur as it lashed out, the violence of the movement belied by its fluidity, by the sheer, natural, grace of Wolverine's lethal economy of motion. He was like wildfire blazing through the woods at night, filling her eye with terrible beauty, dreadful and mesmerizing to behold. 

His claws slammed into the old post all the way to the knuckle. With a violent twist he wrenched them free, wood cracking and splitting as he did.

"Oh Wolvie!" Jubilee cried. "You didn't kill him, right? I know you didn't!"

Snarling, he drew his claws back into his arm. “No," he said. "He ain't dead. Hank had to wrestle me to the ground, risk his life to save him. Even the bastard's wife wanted him left whole. She hit me, told me to leave him alone." 

Wait a minute, Hank? "She hit you...!"

"That low-life should be burnin' in hell right now, would be, if it wasn't for Hank an' 'Roro, and Chuck.” 

"They were out there? How'd they know what was goin' on?"

"How the hell do I know? Charlie musta been pokin' in my head again, I'm a hell of an interestin' specimen, ain't I? Probin', pickin' me apart--"

"But Wolvie! Professor X says he doesn't invade people's privacy like that so if he did, it had to be 'cause he was worried about you!"

"You're too naive, girl, too trusting--"

"Did they say anything, a reason they--"

"Hank spouted off some bull about those trees bein' down, I don't believe it for a minute. They wouldn't come out in the middle o' the night just to check on a goddamn tree! They showed up right after I got there!"

"Oh! Oh, wait a minute, wait, they stopped you? That's just-- oh Wolvie, listen! When has anybody been able to stop you? I think you let yourself be stopped," she said.

He snorted. "No way. I was out for blood. Ask Henry, ask 'em all."

"But-- there’s almost like a pattern here." She came close. "D'you see it? There’s creepy old Sabretooth. You sure coulda killed him, but you didn’t. You had tons of opportunities to hurt that wife-beating pig out there too, but you didn’t even try until there were a buncha people there-- X-Men!-- who could stop you."

He was listening, rubbing his knuckles. "A pattern," he said slowly. "I don't know, Jubes."

Gently she reached out, grasped his hand. Dried blood there. She scrubbed at it with her thumb.

"Here, let's sit down, let's think about all this," she said, tugging to lead him to the window. "C'mon."

He stood unmoving, eyes boring into her. "You ain't plannin' on fallin' out again, are you?" he said finally.

She laughed. "No. I promise."

He came forward then, she shoved the window bale aside and he sat beside her. Silent, watching the night. Making an effort, it seemed, to control his breathing, to calm. Was he thinking about what she'd said? 

Maybe these were their final moments together. She held his arm, and leaned into his side.

After a long while, he sighed.

"You know, Jubes, I thought it was a mistake, you bein' here," he said softly. "Trying so hard t' keep something alive that I thought maybe needed to be let go. I wasn't the person you knew anymore. Thought maybe you wouldn't understand."

She winced. "I *didn't* understand-- but now--"

"I tried t' get you to leave. But you were hell-bent on stayin'. Jubilee-- if you hadn't asked me to help you, I think that bastard out there would've ended up just like Creed. You showed me that... well, that I was askin' for help, all along."

"That's what I've been saying!"

"Fact is, you're the only one that saw it. The rest of them-- I suppose they were too worried about me goin' off my nut an' killin' every livin' thing in sight. Suppose I can't blame 'em. But it was you who came right out here, an' tried to help me."

"I did it because I love you, Wolvie."

He actually started. Her hold on his arm broke as he slipped that arm around her shoulders and pressed a hard, rough kiss right above her ear.

"Hey-- geez!" she protested, grinning like a fool. A delighted fool, to be sure. 

"Easy, girl. Listen. You'll want to hear this. I decided to stick around."

"You-- oh! When did you-- what made you--"

"You said I was a hero, your hero. Darlin', that hit me in a real powerful way. An' then later I saw your pafs. Right in the middle o' the fray. I didn't have your back. I was failing you, that faith you had in me. And that meant I was failing everybody else, too. The other people 'round here that count on me."

He dropped his arm from her shoulders and sighed. "Which also meant I was failing my own damn self. I don't like failure." 

She knew that. It was another thing she admired about him. What must he think of her, then, in light of her own big failure? Her failure to... grow up, be in charge of her life, work through her problems instead of high-tailing it. 

"Oh. Oh, Wolvie. I'm so glad."

"I ain't sayin' I'm gonna join the damn throngs for dinner and a movie or some shit like that."

"I know." She hugged his arm close again, leaned her cheek against it.

“I don't altogether trust Chuck right now. But.. maybe you're right. Seems like he wants to help. I guess I need to let him. Before I lose what little control I got left. I warned him, tonight... anyway. I’ll come in. Eventually. When I’m ready, an' I got no idea when that'll be. Make sure they all know that.”

She nodded against his shoulder.

"Maybe we can have a better go at this barn. I could get that cement I was talkin' about, and the strapping plates. Maybe we could even give 'er a coat of paint. What d'you think?"

"I don't want it painted."

"Well, that's fine, whatever you... hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"Me, that's what's wrong. I can't stay. I-- I'm going back, Wolvie. To the Academy. I have to." 

"You are? Why-- what made you change your mind?"

"Well... I guess... I realized something. I finally figured it out. All this time I've felt like, like what you said, like I'd been *done* to. But that isn't the way it really is, is it? This going away to Massachusetts isn't being done to me, it's being done *for* me."

She clutched his arm harder. "Wolvie, when my parents died, I-- I felt like most of myself went with them. And after that, every time something bad happened, or not even bad, if something even just changed, I-- I hated it, I didn't want to deal with it. 'Cause it felt like even more of me went away. Like more of me... died. I had to hold onto whatever was left as hard as I could. You know?"

Reaching, she picked up his cowboy hat. Carefully removed the long stem of grass from the band, cupping its dry, brittle seed head in her palm.

"But-- I've been thinking about this little thing here. A seed isn't afraid to grow. Even though it changes so much it becomes unrecognizable, it has a mission that it follows, to become what it’s meant to be. If you think about it, it hasn't really lost anything, has it, by growing? It-- it--"

"Darlin', it gains. By fulfilling its plan, the story written in its genes. But Jubilee-- y' ain't gonna be unrecognizable, you're not gonna disappear if you change. You'll still be you, Jubes. You get that, don't you? There's so much inside you that's good an' honest an' true. That ain't gonna go away. That's who you are. You can choose what you want to keep about yourself, an' what you want to leave behind." 

She looked up at him. His eyes were so blue, alight with understanding. "Yeah. I think I see that now. I was fighting... myself, really! I want to move past that, because that isn't me. Bein' a wuss is not in my genes! I want to find out who I really am, I do, just like you want to find out who you are."

"Change can be an opportunity, Jubes. It's like a gift. It'd be hell, wouldn't it? To stay the same forever...?"

"I guess if I had to stay the way I've been feeling since, y' know, since my folks died... yeah, that would be hell. I was stuck. I was-- afraid. I still am, in a way. But Wolvie, it’s different now! It’s not controlling me anymore. I’m controlling it." Decisively she tucked the grass stem back into the hatband.

Wolvie grinned and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're somethin' else, you know that? Scared and hurtin', you managed to swallow your grief an’ give me what I needed. Your blessing. I saw how hard that was. You're the hero around here, Jubes. That took more wisdom an' strength than I've ever had."

She grinned with pleasure at his praise. But then her face slowly crumpled.

"Aw, darlin'... what is it? I sure didn't mean t' make you cry..."

"Oh, Wolvie... It's just-- I'm gonna miss you all over again. It seems like that's all I do now. M--miss you."

His arm went around her back, warm hand gripping her shoulder once again. "Hey. You're a survivor, remember?" He pulled her close. “Listen. You need me there at that school, send a few pafs up as high and as bright as you can. I’ll see it. I'll come."

"For any reason?"

He looked at her steadily. "Anything at all. I'm real proud of you, Jubes. More proud than I can say. I wish I'd known your parents. They had to be remarkable people. Just look at how you're turnin' out."

She sniffed, wiped her nose with her wrist. "I had a good teacher, besides them. You. And don't you say a word because that’s nothing but the honest truth."

She smiled a little when he made as if to lock his lips with a key and toss it away.

"Go on, darlin'. Keep talkin'. Tell me what else is botherin' you."

Of course he knew. He always knew. Slowly she said, "I know I just said I'm fine with everything goin' on but... but this...Wolvie... is owl-- is Ryuu your partner now?"

"Maybe you better tell me."

"I think... I think she is."

"Jubes. Look at me. C'mon... that's it. That decision I left up to her. She wanted something. Needed-- a connection. I can’t explain it, it’s something I sensed. You aren't bein' replaced. *We* are being added to. There's no team here that's static. Think about it. As we change, as our powers grow, or even as we battle our own damn problems, we merge, we break off and join up again. It's one reason we can beat the pants offa so many o' these dirt-bags we come across. They can't pin us down, don't know what's comin', what to expect."

"I know. I understand that. It's just... hard to... weren't we good enough, when it was just me and you?"

"Yep. We were. We *are*. I’m not sayin' with Ryuu around we're better. We're just different."

He made a small clicking noise, and after several moments the owl flew in through the open main doors and sailed on silent wings up to where they sat. Wolvie held out an arm and she went right to it, powerful feet gripping hard enough to drive the points of her claws into his flesh, where droplets of blood welled. When he gently tapped her fleshy pink toes Ryuu slowly lifted and placed each foot again, but this time her grip was softer and her talons did not pierce skin.

"Heh," he murmured. "She's catchin' on."

"You've been training her?"

"Just the foot thing. She's a natural, Jubes. Wrap that blanket 'round your arm some," he said. "If she likes you, she'll go to you."

"Oh, geez, I don't know, I think she might still be mad at me about the rat..."

But the bird immediately stepped up. "Oh...! Oh my gosh!" Jubilee hefted the owl gently. She weighed next to nothing! Deep red eyes looked back at her in an emotionless way that was a little unnerving. Slowly, the delicate lids blinked. There were fine, thread-like feathers on those eyelids. The bird’s beak click-clicked, and she leaned close to Jubilee’s startled face. That sharp, wicked beak found her hairline, nibbling its way gently, so very gently, across her forehead. 

Jubilee’s nose was surrounded by feathers. This is what an owl smells like, she thought. I am one of the few that knows this. When Ryuu finally pulled back her throat was gently vibrating and from her beak came a soft, rapid, "Kleak- kleak- kleak- kleak..."

"What's she saying?"

"She's happy with you," he said. "She's sayin' you're okay."

"Oh, that is so cool! She's awesome."

"Now ain't we a force to be reckoned with," he grinned. 

Ryuu had begun to preen, as if she knew she was being admired. Then she shook out her feathers, and jumped from Jubilee's arm, sailing to the beam she liked to roost on.

"You think you can find room for her in your heart, Jubes?"

"Yes. She's amazing. She really likes us, doesn't she? I didn't-- I feel so stupid. I guess I was kinda jealous."

"Really? That what that was?"

She grinned, punched his arm. “Oh-- shut up! I think we *will* be a better team with her, Wolvie. It's true. I mean, who the heck besides us has a cool fighting owl? We won't need any weapons-grade peanut butter with her around, I bet."

"Damn straight," he chuckled. 

"What does her name mean?" Jubilee asked, rubbing her arm. "Is it Chinese?" Even through that thick padding the bird's grip had been incredibly powerful.

"Japanese. Means dragon. In Chinese the word is luhng. I like the sound of ryuu better."

"I do too. Ryuu. Beautiful Ryuu! Look at her colors, her eyes! What's the word for beautiful in Japanese?"

"Uh-- kireii." 

"Let's call her Kireii Ryuu!" She glanced at him quickly. "No, plain Ryuu is better. Sorry, I don't mean to butt in and start-- um, changing things."

He grinned. "How 'bout this. Kireii Ryuu will be her formal name. We can call her Ryuu for short."

Was it a conscious thing on his part, or did it come naturally like breathing, like his heart beating? She looked back at him, smiling. Even in the smallest of things, Wolvie watched out for her. It was like a gift, all that he did to make her happy. To... smooth her way.

"I feel so different now, Wolvie. Like, grounded or something. My stomach's not all in a knot anymore. I feel more sure about everything. I mean, I have support, friends that will help me, always be there for me. And a place to return to, whenever I need it. And that all happened," she finished, "because people here care about me."

"That's right," he said. "You chose to let 'em in. To accept change. And girl, I think pretty much the same goes for me. Thanks for believin' in me, Jubes." 

She looked at him. "I can breathe again. Feels funny."

"The wheel's turned. Things're settlin' in your heart, your mind. Who knows. Maybe you're gonna find big things at Frost's place. Things that'll take you to new places, new heights. Things you can tell me about, when you're back." 

She leaned into him, acutely conscious that it might be a long time before they sat together like this again. But-- it was okay. Everything was okay, now.

"And maybe you're gonna find those same things, those same heights here, Wolvie. And you can tell me all about that, when we're back together again."

His face, his expression, was so soft, so relaxed. Lips curving in a gentle smile, eyes slowly blinking as he gazed back at her. Gradually Jubilee's focus shifted behind him, where his strong shoulder rested against the mow's upright sill. She followed the path of the silver-gray wood up, where it angled over their heads. Felt its sturdy firmness beneath her legs. It wasn't difficult to imagine that the barn was grateful for their efforts and was cradling them as they rested, holding them as gently as its wooden 'arms' allowed. 

The barn now had hope for its future, and so did they.

It didn't feel very strange at all that she was thinking of this place almost like one of the team.

"This ol' barn really helped us out, didn't it?" 

He nodded thoughtfully. "Got us to a place where we could work stuff out. Ryuu did, too. Even the damn rat. You're a positive force, Jubilation. Never underestimate the power of that."

"Oh Wolvie... that's just..."

"Nothin' but the truth, darlin'."

They were quiet for a time, looking out into the waning night, and then he sighed.

"Dawn's comin'," he said. "Every day's a new start. There's a kind of real freedom in being in charge of yourself. Knowing when to stand your ground, and when to give in." 

"I'm finally getting to know that feeling," she said. 

"Make no mistake, darlin’ you are." After a long while he stretched and yawned. Her heart leaped when he said, “Think I’m gonna go inside, get cleaned up. Wash a few layers off.”

Lifting his hat from the bale, he pulled the grass stem from it and slipped it behind her ear. “You keep this,” he said, smiling. "Don’t wanna look like an’ ol’ hay-seed now, do I?" He plunked the hat onto his head, working it down firmly like he always did.

"I ain’t stayin’ inside though," he went on. "Not yet. But... soon, maybe."

Her first impulse was to go back with him, but she quickly changed her mind. This was his time, his homecoming. She would remain out here with Ryuu. 

"Okay, Wolvie," she said. "I'm-- I’m so happy. For you. For both of us."

"Me too, darlin’. Me too."

This was one of those new heights he'd talked about. And it felt wonderful.

But his next words made her soar.

"Jubes? I want you to know. I love you, too."

 

000000000000000000000000000000000000 

 

She watched him make his way into the sprawling, dew-heavy field, reminded of that long-ago morning when she’d watched him in this very same way, from this very same place. When she knew he had found her a home.

Whatever would she do when she had to leave, go back to the Academy?

Survive and thrive, that’s what. She'd be okay. Both of them would. Because now they knew with a deep and wonderful certainty, that once your home is found, it can never be lost.

Oh, it felt good to be strong!

She grinned, raised her hands, and sent out a sparkling, popping cascade of her fireworks, her power, up, far up into the dawn of this beautiful new day.

"Hey Wolvie!" she called out. He had turned around to watch her display. "You know what? The way I see it, Magneto didn't take *all* your metal!" 

"How d'ya figure that?"

"Because nobody can take away your heart of gold!"

 

00000000000000000000000000000000000 

 

Time itself was change, and with the passing of several more idyllic, sunny days her time at Xavier’s School came to an end. Spring break was over. But that was all right.

The sun was up, long yellow beams pushing through the wet grass. Beside the barn, she knelt in the shifting light and cleared a small space in the moist dirt. Drawing a hand along the lengths of those grasses, she gathered the dew, watching the precious, brittle seed head in her palm slowly soak it up. From behind her the sigh of grasses bending, parting, made her smile, and quickly she turned to greet him. How well he looked, how like himself in his jeans and tee shirt, cowboy hat tipped back on his head. His legs and feet were wet, dew-soaked, like hers. Holding out a hand, he helped her to rise.

"I knew you'd come," she said.

"Of course. You all ready to go?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh. All packed. My ride's waiting."

"So what're you doin' out here?"

She opened her fist. "Look." He gave the little thing nestling there a nudge with his finger, and when he looked up, he was smiling too. 

"Is that from...?" 

"Yes," she nodded. "Your hat. I want to give it back to the earth, in this place where you and I found our way."

He helped her with her easy task, and when it was done, they paused for a time to look out at the trees and meadow. She felt as if they and everything around them, not just living things, but the ground and the rocks and the barn itself were pulsing with life. Moving forward with joy and expectation to greet the future, and every promise that it held. 

 

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000 

 

"For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out, and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction."  
Cynthia Occelli


End file.
